Love Blooms
by Random Guise
Summary: A final, added scene to the movie "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" where Ranse and Hallie Stoddard first return to Shinbone Colorado to retire, fitting on Valentine's Day. I don't own these characters, and my roses are just ordinary Hybrid Tea varieties.


**A/N: A coda to the movie "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance"; Ransom "Ranse" Stoddard and his wife return to Shinbone Colorado after he retires from politics to fulfill his promise made on the train while they left at the end of the film.**

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Love Blooms

"Home at last" Ransom Stoddard, ex-governor, ex-ambassador and ex-senator told his wife as he paused by the front gate. The white picket fence circled the perimeter of the front yard of the house that the couple now called home. After living away for so long, it was both new and old as they found themselves again a resident of the town that was such a wild, untamed place when they first met. No one knew to what heights the fresh from law school graduate would climb, least of all his wife Hallie.

But fate knew. Fate always knew; and when the determination of the young man mixed with a legendary gunfight against a famous criminal, the cards of life were dealt and the hand was played. The man who first appeared in the back room of the chow house beaten and bleeding by the hand of the famed outlaw would become the legendary "man who shot Liberty Valance". A legend that was false; for an unseen hand had held the gun from across the street that downed Liberty that night, an identity that had been known to a select few. Ranse hadn't even known the truth at first, thinking his shot had killed the man. The incident propelled him into the thick of the statehood debate and eventually on his political path after his conscience was cleared when the real gunman confided the truth. "Nobody fights my battles" Ranse had said one time in a fit of anger, but in this case somebody HAD fought the battle for him; somebody who knew that Ranse was destined to fight another battle, one with words and wit and not simply the man who had the fastest gun.

A man that Hallie loved.

_Had_ loved, she corrected herself; he was dead now. If Ranse hadn't shown up in Shinbone she would probably be Mrs. Tom Doniphon now, married to a handsome rancher who was tall, strong, quick with a gun and about the only person before Ranse that stood up to Liberty. But she had to choose one, and somehow or other and in a gradual manner she couldn't put a finger on she had chosen Ranse. Given the choice she would do it again, again and again.

But it didn't mean she still didn't have a piece of her heart forever locked away for the man; you can't just wipe your soul of a person that you've loved, no matter how much or little you had acted upon it. As surely as she felt this, she also knew (or at least hoped) that Tom had felt the same way. He was an honorable man, and when she made her choice he accepted it and without a word halted all attempts to woo her. It wasn't the code of the West, but the gentleman's code that required it and even if it wasn't spoken she knew; the burned out bridal home he was building for her was proof enough that she didn't need to read his face when the heroic mask was put on. Tom was that kind of man.

But so was the idealist Ranse. When he suggested that they retire and move back to Shinbone after Tom's funeral, he knew how she felt about Tom. It was never discussed because it simply WAS. But with Tom's passing, Ranse knew there would be no uncomfortable meetings with his friend and rival as the scars from years past rubbed together. No, it was safe to move back now. Safer for her, safer for Ranse, and safer for Tom.

Curse the heavens for safety.

Pompey, the black hired-hand of Tom's that had pulled him from the fire and backed up the man during a confrontation in the chow house exited through the front door while wiping his hands. He looked up and was startled. Removing his hat he continued "Pardon me Senator, Miss Hallie...I was just putting the final touches on the house. Got everything just like you asked; if it aint, you just tell me."

"Oh Pompey" Hallie gushed "it looks just beautiful. You did a fine job."

"Thank you ma'am. If you'll excuse me I'll let you look over the place while I go about gettin' a few things." He replaced the hat, opened the gate and ushered the two into the yard before exiting and closing it behind him. "You just holler now if you need me, I'm meetin' up with Mister Appleyard" he said before turning to walk down the street toward the center of town.

Ranse and Hallie entered the house through the front door and toured the empty rooms that were waiting for furniture to arrive by train. They continued through the house and out the kitchen door onto the back porch. The back yard was surrounded by the continuation of the picket fence and contained a large oak in one corner. What caught Hallie's eye was a large cactus garden; several had flowered including her favorite, the cactus rose. From her vantage point she could see there were little plaques under some of the plants, including one under its spiny sentinel that boasted the purest white flowers she had ever seen. She walked over to the display and read the plaque.

Variety: Cactaceae Hallius  
Horticulturalist: Tom Doniphon

"The Hallie Cactus" Ranse said from her side as he read the writing. "I reckon he named it for the flower and not the thorns."

She didn't know how he did it, but Tom had created a flower named after her and never said a word. She put her arm around her husband as she continued to look at the flower that spoke louder than words. That was the kind of man Tom was.

Ranse returned the gesture as they stood in front of the plant, allowing her the moment for as long as she needed while she leaned closer to him. That was the kind of man Ranse was.

The End

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**A/N: You occasionally hear of a public person getting immortalized by having a newly-discovered insect named after them, but I think a flower is much better. And the image in the movie of the blooming cactus beside the burned out house and on the casket was such a metaphor that it deserved to be revisited in some fashion.**


End file.
